


Kilted Pleasure

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Kilts, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top John Watson, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While John was in the shower, Sherlock took his robe and left only his kilt. Naughty boys get punished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kilted Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a conversation with Jamlockk. And I realized I hadn't written kilt porn yet.

Sherlock heard the shower stop, followed by a muffled curse. He pretended to be focused on his experiment as an annoyed and damp John Watson stepped out of the bathroom, wearing only his soft blue tartan kilt and dog tags, wet blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Sherlock,” he said warningly.

Noting the tone, Sherlock slowly put down his pipette. “Yes, John?” he said innocently.

“Don’t give me that. You took my robe and put my kilt in the bathroom while I was washing my hair.”

“Why would I do that?” asked Sherlock, hoping his erection wasn’t too obvious as he moved the microscope in front of his midsection.

John took a step towards him. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. I’m going to my room. When I come back you will be kneeling by my chair, do you understand?” 

Sherlock nodded vigorously before catching himself. “Yes, John.”

Giving a short nod of dismissal, John turned and padded up to his room in bare feet. Sherlock swallowed and went to kneel next to his chair, heart thrumming with anticipation. He wondered if he should have undressed, but John hadn’t told him to.

A few moments later there was the sound of boots on the stairs. Sherlock looked up as John stepped back into the flat, now with his military boots and long socks in addition to the kilt and dog tags. Sherlock’s mouth went dry.

“You were naughty, Sherlock,” said John going to sit in his chair. “Naughty boys get punished.”

Sherlock looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Yes, sir.”

John spread his legs, the kilt still covering his lap. “Come here.”

Sherlock moved on his knees until he was between John’s legs, admiring the strength of his calves. “I think you better suck my cock,” said John, reaching out one hand to his riot of curls and tugging his head forward. John’s other hand lifted his kilt. 

Sherlock shuffled forward and licked the head of John’s cock, earning a soft moan, before taking the head in his mouth.

“Mm, this is punishment Sherlock.” He thrust up..

Sherlock groaned and let his jaw go slack as John slowly fucked his mouth, hand still in his hair, keeping him in place, tugging lightly. The other hand held his kilt out of the way. Distantly Sherlock could hear the jangle of John’s dog tags with every movement. His own cock strained against his trousers, but he knew better than to touch himself.

“Good,” growled John after a few long minutes, pulling his hair and letting him kneel back. “I want you to strip for me.”

Sherlock licked his lips and got to his feet, teasingly unbuttoning his tight shirt. John wrapped a hand around his own cock, stroking slowly as he watched him, eyes lingering over every bit of skin as it was exposed. Sherlock tugged his shirt free of his trousers and set it aside in his chair, hands going to his belt and removing that just as slowly.

“I am going to fuck you, Sherlock. I know you want this. You want to feel me inside of you while I’m wearing this kilt. You want to feel the scratch of the wool on your skin,” John’s voice was low and deep, bordering on dangerous. “You want to be naked with me, exposed.”

“Yes, John.” Though it was true, Sherlock’s voice shook slightly with the confession.

“I know there’s lube in the sofa cushions. I want you to sit in your chair and open yourself for me. Let me see how badly you want me.”

Fumbling in his hurry, Sherlock tossed his clothes out of the chair and fetched it. He sat, spreading his legs obscenely as he met John’s hungry gaze. John’s hand stilled as Sherlock began teasing his rim.

“That’s it, Sherlock. Go on.”

Moaning softly, Sherlock opened the lube and coated his fingers, working himself open, eyes falling shut as his head lolled back against the chair.

“So pretty like that,” purred John. “You open so well for me. I’m going to fill you up, Sherlock. Have you begging and writhing on my cock.”

“Yes John, please,” moaned Sherlock, opening his eyes and meeting John’s heated gaze.

“Come here,” ordered John. “I want to see if you’re ready for me.”

Sherlock knew he was, but he didn’t argue, just lowered his legs and crossed the space between their chairs, handing John the lube.

John dribbled a generous portion on his cock, slicking himself before pressing his fingers into Sherlock, scissoring them slowly.

“Good,” he murmured. “Come up here.”

Sherlock climbed into his lap. John kept one hand on his hip as he guided him down. Sherlock sighed as he sank onto John’s cock, wiggling a bit as he settled.

“Good,” said John again, this time a little breathy. “Ride me, Sherlock.”

John’s hands dropped back to the arms of his chair as Sherlock started to move, blushing at John’s intense gaze. Naked was one thing, to be this vulnerable, this _seen_ , was something else entirely.

Catching Sherlock looking down and away, John tilted his chin towards him. “Beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping his other hand around the back of Sherlock’s neck and pulling him down for a surprisingly tender kiss.

Sherlock moaned and shuddered, his last defenses falling as he stopped moving, just kneeling over John’s lap, still full of his thick cock, knowing he was safe and cared for.

John broke the kiss and smiled at him. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist and picked him up. Sherlock’s legs wrapped around him automatically as he was lowered into the leather chair opposite, legs pushed up as John followed him down.

“Mine,” growled John, pulling Sherlock’s hair to expose his throat. He nibbled the soft skin as he started thrusting hard, dog tags dragging against Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock moaned, helpless beneath him, feeling the kilt brush his thighs as John planted his feet and took what they both wanted.

Just as Sherlock started to get lost in the overwhelming data that was John Watson shagging his brains out, a strong hand wrapped around his cock, both grounding him and forcing a cry from his lips.

Sherlock could feel how close John was, how his thrusts were losing rhythm, though still hard and just where he needed them to be. John’s breath was harsh against his skin. With a twist of his wrist, Sherlock came with a long, low moan, come landing in hot streaks on his chest and stomach..

John gave a broken groan and thrust deep, holding himself there. Sherlock moaned again, feeling John come.

Panting, John kissed Sherlock’s forehead before carefully lowering his legs and pulling out. He took a step back and admired the sight of Sherlock in his chair, totally wrecked. Sherlock wondered how he could still walk.

John smirked. “Next time, just ask.” He walked into the kitchen to fix a cup of tea as if he hadn’t been pounding into Sherlock moments before. Sherlock stayed where he was, already wondering when he could next get him into that kilt.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to Irrevocably_Sherlocked for reading along as I wrote. You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
